K: Well, it seems I was wrong. After thinking about the story so much, I ended up seeing him for myself. Haven't seen him since, though.
Y: Even if he DID come again, you'd probably just sleep through it.
K: Heh heh heh…
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters in this fic. Just the shrink and Yuugi's comatose dad…and the image the ghost guy is based off of.
Dedications:
- HikariEryaviel (Sorry I haven't updated this for Ra-knows how long. The "ghost" hasn't really done anything since, so there's no real drive behind it…)
- Tati (Well then, I suppose I must continue.)
- Roxy the wannabe (Yep! Though I write suspense all the time… I don't blame you for freaking about The Ring. A bunch of people did. I didn't find it all that scary, though… Especially after all that…)
- Kami Beverly (Well, he has every right to be. Wouldn't YOU be paranoid if a ghost man put your dad in a coma and sent your mom to a loony bin?)
- Weeping Angel (Maaaaaaybe. I'm not telling. Though that DOES sound like something the dub-version Yuugi would say…)
- KittyKatu (Sorry for the wait. I'd almost forgotten about this fic until I was browsing through all my old files, wondering what to update.)
- Ran Hoshino (Why thank you. I'm honored that you like it so much. I am kind of a drama queen when writing, ne?)
- Pooka228 (Exactly! Though he hasn't bothered me since… Oh well, I guess I'll just go with a twist of the original story, mixed with my own experience, and the rest is Yuugi's version.)
- SSJ4 Sailor Menz (Gomen ne, demo, I'm going to continue. It wouldn't really make all that much sense standing alone as a one-shot.)
- Merodi no Yami (Hey, Merodi! How are you and Naito fairing? Is he behaving himself?)
The Apparition
Encounter II: Uncertainty
It's been three months since I started school at Domino Koukou. I've been trying hard to fit in with the rest of the students, but since I'm always so jumpy, the other students think I'm wierd and crazy. Many of them bully me, and even though most of the time I'm able to sneak away without a scratch on me, I still gain a new set of bruises pretty much every other week. Grandpa doesn't know, of course, but only thanks to the miracle known as liquid cover-up.
Sighing, I stared at my reflection in the mirror, drinking in my haggard appearance. Cold sweat trickled down my neck, and my hair was limp and disheveled. I could still feel myself shaking. It was that dream again. The same one that's haunted me since that fateful day those many months ago.
Why? Why does my past have to plague me, night and day? Why was I cursed with his presence? His shadow falling over me and shrouding me in this dark, hollow shell of an existence…
I pounded my clenched fists down onto the marble counter, quaking uncontrollably as fear and anger raged a war within me. Part of me wanted him to come back—wanted to find him and make him pay for what he's done to me and my family. The other part is too afraid to do anything of the sort.
/What does he want with me? Why am I so special? Why did he spare me and harm everyone else?/
There I go again—chasing after the answers to the same impossible questions… What did it matter, really? It's not like I could just ask him what he wanted, anyway.
I jumped as someone rapped on the bathroom door.
"Yuugi? Is everything alright? If you take any longer, you'll be late for school!"
I sighed. It was only Grandpa. Running a slim hand through my damp, oily hair, I frowned. It looked like there wouldn't be time for anything other than make up today.
Making sure there was a happy lilt in my voice, I replied, "I'm fine, Grandpa! Just give me a minute, okay?"
A light-hearted chuckle sounded through the stained pine door. "Alright, alright… As long as you didn't fall in…"
"Grandpa!" I whined, scowling at his joke. He's been using that one ever since I was born… It isn't my fault I'm a total shrimp!
He laughed again, completely fooled by my performance, and as he left the room and descended the stairs, I could hear the occasional snicker escape him. I turned back to the mirror, assessing the situation. Considering what time it was, the best I could do was shove my head under the faucet and towel-dry the grimy, multi-colored mass I called hair.
Hissing as the icy water hit my scalp, I quickly cleaned my hair as best I could before shutting off the valve. Wringing out my shoulder-length tresses, I groped around blindly for a towel, careful not to drip on the floor. I found one soon enough, wrapping my sopping hair up in it and wiping my eyes on the corners. Sighing, I proceeded to dry my hair, rubbing my head and getting rid of as much water as I could.
As soon as I removed the towel from my head, my hair sprung up; a tangled, damp afro perched triumphantly on my brow. Glaring at it in annoyance, I painstakingly brushed it out until it resembled hair again, then tied it back with a hair band. Wiping my face once more to remove any oil or sweat left from my restless sleep, I hurriedly dabbed on liquid cover-up, the bruises seemingly melting away from sight as soon as they were coated with the skin-colored solution.
With one last glance in the mirror, I screwed the lid back on the bottle, tossed it into a drawer, and exited the bathroom. After a quick stop by my room to grab my book bag, I raced down the stairs and out the door.
"I'm leaving! See you later, Grandpa!" I called over my shoulder, then ran as quickly as I could to the subway station.
With any luck, I wouldn't run into anyone before I got there. That way, even if I'd left a little later than usual, I'd still make it to school before the first bell. Of course, I had about as much luck as a klutz in a mirror factory.
Sure enough, Ushio was leaning against a pillar in the station, directly between my goal and I. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, I carefully shuffled my way toward the train, praying I'd be lost in the crowd. Unfortunately, there aren't many blondes in Japan.
"Mutou! It's been a while!"
Shit. My hair had given me away again. I knew I should've dyed it…
I was fully aware that ignoring him and continuing on my way would only make it harder on me later—once he did catch me—but after a night of little to no sleep, I didn't really care. I quickened my pace, pretending I hadn't heard him. Dread bubbled up in my stomach as I heard him shove his way through the crowd behind me, his hoarse Osakan slang sweetly calling out to me as if we were old pals. I was only a few steps from the solace of the car when he caught up to me.
"What's the matter, Mutou? Didn't you hear me?" Ushio smirked above me, and I decided to try the innocent act.
"U-Ushio-senpai! I didn't know you were here! Were you calling? I'm so sorry I didn't notice you earlier…" I gasped, apologizing profusely to him like a naughty child cornered by his stern parents. "H-how are you today?"
He seemed confused for a moment, unsure of whether I was acting or not, but I quickly continued before he could properly think about it. "I… I have that money I owe you from the other day…"
Not that I actually owed him anything. His gang usually pulverized me regardless of whether I forked over his little 'insurance fee' or not. Still, if it helped me avoid a conflict now, I figured it was worth it.
I fished a thousand-en note out of my pocket, making a show of turning them out in order to prove I didn't have anything else on me, then handed it to him. Mission accomplished. Ushio was now too focused on the money to wonder whether or not I'd fooled him. The bottom line—he'd leave me alone for now; I didn't have to worry about a pounding until later on today.
"Thank you for your contribution, Mutou. I'll see you around, then." He sneered, pocketing the money, then turned and stomped off in the direction of the pillar.
Damn. That must be his new lookout point. That meant I'd have to get here even earlier, or else avoid the station altogether. Not good, considering I live roughly an hour away from the school…
Sighing for the umpteenth time today, I stepped onto the car and prayed there wasn't a test today.
School was just like any other day—full of stares, glares, and ostracism. I nearly ran into Ushio's thugs once or twice, but I'd caught sight of them early enough to sneak away before they noticed me. By the time the final bell rang, I felt good enough to risk taking a little detour to rent a movie. Although I'd turned out my pockets this morning, I still had roughly eight hundred en hidden away inside my sock—a small sum saved up for just an occasion.
I struck out for the video store, taking as many of my safe shortcuts as possible, on the lookout for any bullies thirsty for blood. I arrived there without a scratch, and as the bell jingled above my head, I inhaled the musty, dust-filled air inside the establishment. The cashier ignored me as I walked past, his face hidden behind a copy of today's paper. I headed straight for my usual section—foreign films. Running my hands along the worn plastic spines of the tapes, my fingers came to rest on one entitled "Dead Poets Society." It seemed simple enough—the summary on the back said it was about an English teacher at a boarding school. He teaches his students to love life, and live it to the fullest, but the administration dislikes his unusual methods. Not all that exciting, but I figured that if it had Robin Williams in it, it was worth a shot.
I tucked my selection under an arm as I approached the register, and upon hearing my footsteps, the cashier folded his newspaper, then turned to attend to me. He quickly scanned the tape's barcode, ringing it up as I fished the needed coins out of my sock. Signing the receipt, I passed through the anti-theft security system, grabbing the tape on the other side and exiting the building.
I made it to the station without event, which was odd, but I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. I boarded the train home, scanning the car cautiously in search of thugs, and arrived at my destination without a bully in sight. I began to get edgy—all this luck seemed too good to be true…
As I rounded the corner, home plainly in sight, I realized that was exactly the case.
I grit my teeth as the peroxide hit my wounded flesh, dabbing at my skinned knees and the cut on my hand. They'd been waiting for me. Waiting just outside my own home… My solace wasn't safe anymore. It was gone, and I couldn't do anything about it. Grandpa didn't have the money to have us move, and I knew he loved this place with all his heart. Asking to leave just for my sake would be too much.
I placed a bandage over each of my injuries, then made sure none of my bruises were showing before going downstairs and popping a couple painkillers. Grandpa was there, going through the day's records for the game shop. He quirked an eyebrow at me over the papers in his hand, eyeing the bottle of ibuprofen in mine.
"What's the matter, Yuugi? Are you feeling okay?"
I smiled sheepishly, placing the bottle back on the shelf. "I'm fine. It's just a headache."
Another bold-faced lie. How many more will there be?
"Are you sure?"
I froze. Hadn't my performance been flawless? Or was it just the usual grandfatherly concern shining through?
It suddenly occurred to me that I'd been silent too long.
Grandpa rose from the kitchen table and approached me, frowning. I couldn't bear to meet his eyes, so I stared at the sink instead, watching the droplets drip slowly from the leaky faucet.
"Yuugi…" he began, reaching out to squeeze my arm gently.
I winced as one of my bruises flared up in pain. He noticed my discomfort, releasing my arm and fixing me with a worried expression. He opened his mouth to speak—to ask that question I couldn't bear to hear—but I beat him to it.
"It's nothing. I just banged it on the door again, is all. Don't worry about it."
He didn't look convinced, but nodded regardless, giving me my space. I suddenly had a vague feeling that he knew everything—about the bruises, the lack of friends, and why—but I turned away from him despite that, not quite ready to face it. I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to face it…
I returned to my room, peeling off my dirty clothes and tossing them into a corner. Clad in nothing but black-and-white checkered boxers, I entered the adjoining bathroom, turning on the faucet and soaking a washcloth in the steadily-growing pool of water. I wrung it out with my good hand, then wiped the remaining dirt and make-up from my body. I wanted to take a shower, but after going through all the trouble to dress my wounds, I didn't want to redo them. Way to think ahead.
I looked up, checking for any remaining grime, and frowned. Something wasn't right. It took me a second to realize what it was.
In my reflection, the bruises were gone. And my eyes…
My eyes were not my own.
I gasped, frozen, and watched my reflection peel itself from the mirror, taking form as its arms and head slowly inched toward me. The phantom reached out to me, staring intently with those blood red eyes, and I felt a tear slide down my pale flesh and onto the beige tile floor. Those ruby orbs darted to that side of my face, and an icy hand rose up to cup my cheek. I shivered, the cold breaking me from my trance.
I backed away, slowly making my way to the exit. Those crimson pools followed me, and more of the creature's body emerged from the glass, still moving toward me. I kept my eyes on him, and as soon as my feet touched the carpet of the next room, I quickly shut the door, barring him from my sight. I held my breath as I saw a shadow move under the door, the same unearthly cold seeping out through the crack. A chill ran down my spine, and I could feel the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I whispered, "Go away, go away, go away, go away, PLEASE, just go away…"
Little by little, the feeling began to fade, and when I opened my eyes, there was no longer a shadow. Exhaling, I fell against the frame, my body slipping down until my knees met the floor. My head in my hands, I peeked out through the gap in my fingers, eyes trained on the sliver of light before me.
There was no doubt about it—the entity had returned.